


Late in the Day for Saints and Everyone

by theswearingkind



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-14
Updated: 2006-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theswearingkind/pseuds/theswearingkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This can't be his roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late in the Day for Saints and Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Big Damn Table prompt #28, children.

“Yeah, I got it, Mom.  No, I didn’t forget.  Tomorrow, right.  Uh, haven’t seen her since we got here.  Ivy, I think?  Yeah, she’s cool.  I—oh.  Tell him I said hello.  I mean, hello, _sir_.”  Jason cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, hears the low mumble of his parents’ voices.  His clothes are spread out across the bed in front of him, and damn, he should have packed better, used some sort of system, because he has no idea where any of his stuff is. 

“What?  Oh.  Later.  I’m _unpacking_ , Mom, I told you that already.  I—no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—yes.  Yes.  Okay.  Yes, I’m pretty sure that—”

He stops and abruptly loses the ability to breathe, because the door is opening and Peter’s coming in the room, dragging massive bags of luggage behind him.  At least he thinks it’s Peter.  He’s not entirely sure because last time he checked, Peter was about five foot two barefoot and weighed maybe a buck-twenty soaking wet.  Peter wasn’t six feet tall and Peter definitely didn’t have muscles, and he’s heard of growth spurts but this is _ridiculous_. 

“I—what?” he says into the phone, mouth suddenly dry.  “Uh, listen, Mom, Peter’s here so I’m gonna— _Peter_ , Mom, we’ve been roommates since seventh grade.  Yes, the fa— _no_ , Mom, no.  Look, I’ve gotta go, okay?  Okay.  Bye.” 

He drops the phone on the bed and takes a deep breath before turning back to face Peter, then promptly chokes on the air in his lungs because Peter is stretched out facedown across his bed, shirt rucked up a little over his tailbone, and this is going to be one _long_ year.


End file.
